


Heat stroke

by AlisonWrites



Category: Vikings (TV), Vikings RPF
Genre: Actors, Boys Being Cute, Feel-good, Flirting, M/M, On Set, Romance, Smut, Teasing, because why not, in the sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1586864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlisonWrites/pseuds/AlisonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun <i>is</i> scorching, but the actors are sweating for an entirely different reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat stroke

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the scene from ep. 2, season 2 of Vikings.

They are just finishing the shooting of a scene, in which Ragnar mocks/teaches Athelstan how to fight on a beach. The sun has scorched them during the previous dozen takes and they are all, including the extras and the camera crew, sweating like mad. Especially the actors. The costumes are designed to be as historically correct as possible, meaning that although they aren’t necessarily uncomfortable, they’re thickly woven. It seems the fabric is designed to keep their heat contained like saunas and Travis tries not to pant too heavily in between his lines. Physical action, in the sun, in thick clothes – it’s the worst scene they’ve shot so far.  
And simultaneously the best one. George fighting is as ridiculous as a puppy pretending to be a full grown Doberman; he hasn’t got it in him. He knows the steps and has learnt how to handle the axe but no one can call him scary – if anything, he’s cute for trying so hard. But it fits his character perfectly. He wields the axe like an inexperienced somewhat pacifistic monk, is trapped beneath Ragnar’s sword, loses his axe and then they face each other. The beating of Travis’s pulse echoes so audibly the microphones must be picking up on it. He aims the tip of the sword at the base of George’s neck, in the little hollow between his collarbones.  
“It is one thing to use a weapon,” he says with the voice of Ragnar and pauses for effect, “but another to kill.”  
Then comes the tackle. Travis wrestles the man to the ground in one fluid movement, stabs the sword into the sand by his head and places a hand on Athelstan’s chest to keep him from rising. They have done the scene so many times, they both know it by heart. They are flustered and heaving heated air between them.  
“Never hesitate,” he says and stares into the artificially shocked face below him.  
They are still, panting from exhaustion and approaching heat strokes, until the director bellows out for the cameramen to cut. The scene is declared a wrap. A tumult arises. Someone starts tossing water bottles around to those in need and Travis catches one while still pinning George to the sand, causing the crew to laugh and roll their eyes before continuing to pack up. It’s no news to them that George and Travis are always up to nonsense like two high schoolers; they would be worried if the two actors weren’t messing with each other whenever they got the chance.  
The camera gear is removed from the scene in a hurry, for it’s Friday and everyone has been given the afternoon off to recuperate from the harsh week they’ve ~~barely~~ suffered through. The extras that have been fighting in the background disappear to return their props. Except for a few strays from the crew, they’re soon alone. Travis takes his time twisting the cap off of the bottle and drinking.  
“Please, not today, bug someone else,” he hears George stammer from beneath him. “I’m spent.”  
He can’t fully supress his grin. He loves hearing him plead.  
“No.”  
The man wiggles a little and Travis presses him firmly back into the sand with his palm, still resting on his chest. It’s an improvised, not especially funny trick, but the idea of standing up and separating the two is next to depressing. Unless the group has planned an evening out with beer and poor food in some local pub, the likelihood of him meeting George again during the coming two days is close to none. They’re close-knit and friendly on set, alright, but somehow he hasn’t managed to become a part of George’s weekends. Yet.  
“At least let me have some water, I’m dying.”  
He looks like it. The beard, which George miraculously managed to grow out over the past couple of weeks, is moist with sweat and his face is caked with makeup and dirt. He could use a wash.  
“Some water, was it?”  
“No!”  
George realizes his mistake just as Travis tips the bottle over his face. He squirms and shakes his head about like a dog to rid himself of the water before leaning back onto the sand, laughing, letting the prankster pour water over him like a plant. It’s a little degrading, maybe, but Travis doesn’t wish to degrade him. Some of the makeup washes off. It’s a shame how much they paint him.  
“It remains a mystery to me why anyone would willingly hang out with you,” George breathes once his laughter has died down.  
“And yet here you are.”  
“This isn’t willingly. Do I look willing to you?”  
He attempts to look scornful and for an actor, he does a terrible job at it. Travis chuckles and pokes him in the chest.  
“You look _very_ willing.”  
A slight redness spreads over George’s neck, starting from the hem of the tunic, spreading upwards to his jawline and then tinting his cheeks. He blushes often, but only because the team has a uniquely raw and often sexual sense of humour. Travis can’t help but to stare. His words weren’t meant to be sexual.  
“Well, I, I think we should get going,” George declares.  
He wriggles again but when he almost breaks free, Travis slides a leg over his, effectively straddling him back onto the ground to keep him from escaping. George’s blush deepens and he stills, looking up with the roused, extended hair in his eyes and sweat streaks in the makeup leftovers. The sight makes Travis smile, as oh so often these days, and his stomach tightens with nerves. It’s been years since looking at someone could make him nervous and the feeling is oddly pleasant. George is oddly pleasant.  
“Are you sure you want to leave?”  
George swallows and his eyes start to flicker.  
“Yes, I have to- I have to go, I have a- a date, you see-“  
A date. He deserves an Oscar for how well he hides his shock, but anyone who knows him well enough would identify the lack of smile on his lips. If anything, such good news should make him smile like a madman, but he’s not good enough of an actor to pull that off. Come to think of it, he doesn’t deserve an Oscar.  
“A date?”  
At least his voice doesn’t waver. George is terribly red by now, looking more uncomfortable than he has ever seen him, and it has nothing to do with the baking sun. The situation is starting to feel more and more like an interrogation and Travis knows he ought to let the man go, but _a date_ ; how can he not interrogate him?  
“Yes.”  
“With someone you like?”  
Their eyes meet and Travis manages to grin in the way that is expected of him. The blushing skin looks so hot, as if it would burn to touch, and his fingers curl into the man’s tunic to refrain from checking.  
“That’s what I’m hoping to find out,” George replies and his voice is heavy with sass. “That’s what dates are for.”  
“Who’s the lucky girl?”  
“Who said anything about a girl?”  
Travis can’t help but to raise an eyebrow in response and George watches him partly amused, partly with that predatory look of his that is entirely mismatched to the rest of him. He’s not too unlike Nathan O’Toole, who constantly wants to prove how adult he is, despite being merely a teen. It’s adorable. Whoever his date is, he’s one lucky man.  
“Who is he?”  
George makes a serious attempt at freeing himself.  
“I’ll tell you all about him if it turns out well.”  
But it’s not good enough of an answer.  
Roughly, the way he has done so many times while practising and shooting, he wrestles the man into resignation. George is more determined than Athelstan, though, and he continues to flail about, despite being clearly stuck, until Travis leans over him to hold his wrists still. He stares down onto the man, for they are now face to face, and the Ragnar braid dangles in the space between them. Breathing heavily from the struggle, George stares back, his eyes altering between which eye to focus on, finally fixating on Travis’s smirk.  
“Who is he? Tell me.”  
The man twists around beneath him and as if he didn’t notice it until now, Travis becomes aware of the body writhing against his own. He literally has George between his thighs. His temperature skyrockets inside the costume.  
“What does it matter?”  
“Tell me, Georgie.”  
“Does it matter who I date?”  
“Of course it does, not anyone deserves you.”  
The writhing halts and Travis observe the change in his friend, in how his face pales rather than blushes, how his flickering gaze grows steady, how his annoyance seems to clear. It’s captivating to observe such confidence in the otherwise so tentative man. But it only lasts for a moment, before he blinks and turns his head away.  
“I don’t know him yet, it’s a blind date.”  
“Who hooked you up?”  
The blush returns.  
“My mum.”  
He couldn’t be more of a dork if he tried to. The corners of Travis’s lips jerk.  
“Won’t you spend the evening with me instead?” he asks with a low voice, as if he’s suggesting something criminal. “I promise you’ll have more fun with me.”  
“I can’t, she’ll be furious if I don’t go on a real date anytime soon.”  
“Then go on one with me.”  
George’s eyebrows close in on each other and his mouth opens to object with words no one will ever hear, for he doesn’t say them. His arms are still held down and his body is forced into the sand in which he’s spent hours trotting around today, trying to stay focused while Travis kept stealing his attention away. Despite always being nervous before a date, he hasn’t spent a minute of his time thinking about who he’s scheduled to meet later; his head has been too occupied with marvelling about the light eyes that keep looking his way. They are so captivating, he would probably stick around even if Travis was to let him go this very instance. _Thank God he’s not letting him go._  
“I guess I have to cancel the other one, then.”  
And if it goes downhill from this moment, it will have been worth it, because Travis bursts into the widest of smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you're interested in more :)


End file.
